


Dear Doctor

by valiantlybold



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Choking, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, Hair-pulling, Hopeful Ending, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Rimming, Slapping, Smut, Spanking, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, therapist geralt, u heard me - Freeform, yes therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantlybold/pseuds/valiantlybold
Summary: Jaskier is supposed to find a new therapist, not someone to fuck him absolutely senseless, but here we are!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 862





	Dear Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> *opens trenchcoat* ey, discord homies, u ready for that good shit?

Geralt checks his calender.

 _J.Pankratz_ was his four o’clock appointment. After that, he only had one short consult call, then his day would be _blessedly_ over. He loved his job, yes, but goddamn it was tiring some times.

He sent an IM to Ciri, his part-time receptionist, asking her to send in Pankratz if he was present.

He gets up from behind his desk, grabbing his pen and notepad as well as his cup of coffee. He has just put his things down on the side-table next to his armchair when he hears the door open. Geralt turns around raptly, pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

“Pankratz?” he asks.

The kid is young; can’t be more than mid-twenties. If Geralt recalls the file on him correctly, he should be about twenty-six, maybe? He’s got a smile on his face too, and if he wasn’t a patient, Geralt might consider asking him out. But he won’t. Because he is a patient, after all, and Geralt isn’t _that_ stupid.

“Doctor Wolf!” Pankratz says, grinning as he shakes Geralt’s hand. “And please! Call me Jaskier, everyone does!”

Geralt hums. “Geralt is fine, then. Have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

Jaskier seems happy enough to throw himself down on Geralt’s couch, spreading himself out as if he owns the place. Geralt sits down in his armchair. He sips his coffee, and clicks his pen.

“Very well, then. You were referred to me by Doctor Vengeberg, is that right?” he questions first.

Jaskier hums, fluffing up the pillow he rests his head on. “Indeed! She and I were… How shall I say, _not compatible?”_

“Not uncommon,” Geralt assures, making a note of it. “It’s hard to make therapy work if the patient and doctor aren’t, as you say, compatible. Let’s hope I’ll be a better fit.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll fit me just right,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt decides not to comment.

“So, let’s start with why you’re here,” he says instead. “What is it you’re hoping to accomplish through therapy?”

Jaskier doesn’t reply. Instead, he sits up rather violently, leaning over the coffee table between them to get as close to Geralt as possible, still grinning. Geralt doesn’t react. He’s had worse cases.

“Let’s skip that, and have you write me up a referral to _another_ doctor because you are _way_ too hot to be my therapist, and if I have to sit here for an hour every week staring at you without being allowed to _touch_ you then I will literally _die_ of horniness. You are _literally_ the perfect man! I mean, have you _looked at yourself?!_ Handsome, broody face, jaw sturdy enough for me to sit on, big hands, muscles as far as the eye can see, and you look bloody sexy in glasses, and I can only imagine you’ve got the hugest cock I’ve ever seen.”

Hm, excessive honesty might be an issue, Geralt would have to bring that up.

“Please sit down, Jaskier.”

He writes on his notepad while Jaskier slumps back onto the couch. He tears off the page and offers it to Jaskier.

“That’s my number. I’ll write you a referral while you leave. Text me your address later, and I’ll meet you there at around six.”

Jaskier is very cute when he lights up, snatching the paper out of Geralt’s hand. He jumps to his feet and is already heading for the door. Geralt is a decent man, he really is, but he’s not sure anyone could resist watching that ass walk out the door. It’s a really nice ass.

A while later, while he’s getting that referral written up and preparing for the consult call, Jaskier texts him an address, as well as a picture of himself spread out across a large bed, barely covered by a pair of tight boxers, a sinful look on his face.

Geralt has to have a glass of very cold water before he can settle down again.

*

Jaskier is still only wearing those tight boxers when he opens the door for Geralt. This time, though, Geralt doesn’t have to think about settling down. This time, he can get in close, almost chest to chest with Jaskier, tower over him, look down at him with sharp eyes.

“Did you think it would be a good idea to tease me with that picture?”

Jaskier is already breathless, sagging against Geralt’s wide chest, biting his lip. “Just wanted to show you want you had to look forward to, doctor,” he replies.

And it might be a really nice ass, but when Geralt gets his hands on it, it feels like a _fantastic_ ass.

“So you want to call me doctor?”

He pulls Jaskier flush to him. Jaskier grabs at Geralt’s arms, holds on tight. But he shakes his head.

“Geralt is fine,” he says. “Just wanted to be clever, is all.”

Geralt hums. “Instead of trying to be clever, why don’t we step inside and you can show me to your bedroom?”

Jaskier swallows, nodding.

The door slams and locks behind them. Geralt is dragged by the hand through the apartment into the bedroom, where Jaskier all but glues himself to him again.

“I prefer to know what my partners want, Jaskier,” Geralt says, calm, as Jaskier tries to wrench him out of his clothes.

He gives the man a shove. Jaskier stumbles, falling back onto the bed. He’s so hard he’s tenting his tight boxers. There’s even a cute little wet spot right at the head. When he tries to touch himself, Geralt tuts at him, which makes him snatch his hand back as if burned. Instead, he claws at the sheets, rutting uselessly against nothing.

Geralt removes his coat.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, Jaskier?”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt as Jaskier groans with impatience.

“Um! I like- fuck, just fuck me hard, and, uh, pull my hair, call me names. Slap me around if you feel like it, spank me. Um, use me, is what I’m trying to say, I suppose! A-And praise me! S-Say I’m a good boy!”

He kicks off his boots.

“P-Put your hands on my throat, edge me, then make me cum so hard I pass out!”

“Is that everything?” Geralt asks while undoing his belt.

Jaskier watches him, biting his lip, obviously getting more and more needy by the second. _“Mm-hm!_ Think so!”

“I think I can do that,” Geralt says with a smirk, then drops his trousers.

 _“Oh, fuck,_ that really is the hugest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“And now you’re going to be a good boy and _take it.”_

Jaskier whimpers and nods.

Geralt kneels onto the bed, hands on either side of Jaskier’s head, hovering over him. Jaskier still grips at the sheets.

“If I recall correctly, you said I have a jaw sturdy enough for you to sit on. Does that sound about right?”

Jaskier whimpers again, nodding.

“Well, then I have a few simple few questions. When was the last time you had an STD screening, what were the results, and have you had unprotected sex since then?”

Jaskier groans, rolling his eyes, but quickly collects himself again, probably knowing that these are very important questions that need to be answered before anything actually happens.

“Last week, clean slate, and no, I haven’t.”

Geralt smiles. “Good boy.”

Jaskier looks ready to melt into the mattress.

“And for me it was the first of this month, clean slate, and no, I haven’t,” Geralt also informs in return. “Are you ready to be a good boy for me, Jaskier?”

“Yes! Yes, please! Please!”

Geralt rolls off him and onto his back. “You said you wanted to sit on my face so get to it, pretty boy.”

Jaskier mover _very_ quickly. He shuffles and kicks and squirms out of his boxers and throws them aside, then he’s climbing over Geralt and positioning himself and Geralt has a _beautiful_ view. He wraps his arms over Jaskier’s legs, holding on tight to his hips, as he noses up at his balls. Jaskier whimpers, leaning forward on Geralt’s chest.

He takes a handful of either of Jaskier’s pretty cheeks, spreading him open, and isn’t that just the prettiest sight? Jaskier’s all wet and lubed and open, just waiting for Geralt to come and take care of him. He drags Jaskier in, plunging his tongue past his rim, to which Jaskier almost screams. Geralt laps at his pretty pink rim and tastes the vanilla-flavored lube, thrusting his tongue slowly in and out of him. The noises he makes are damn incredible.

 _“Geralt!”_ he cries. “Oh, fuck, Geralt!”

He feels Jaskier’s hands begin to sneak south, no doubt eager to show what a good boy he is. But Geralt is not interested. He reaches blindly; he gets hold of either Jaskier’s arms and pulls them behind his back, holding them there with an iron tight grip. Jaskier just whines for him, grinding down on Geralt’s face. This backfires on him, though, as the motion only pushes Geralt’s tongue deeper into him.

“I can’t! Can’t take it, Geralt, _please!_ Please, just gimme your cock, can’t take it, I need it!”

Well, we can’t have that, can we?

With the hold on Jaskier’s arm, Geralt easily tipped him on his side, letting him fall out of his straddling position. He landed on his chest with a muted _oof,_ then Geralt was on top of him. He switched his hold; he crossed Jaskier’s wrists one on top of the other and held them in place with his left hand, leaving the right free to roam. When Jaskier tried to grind against the mattress, he instead got a hard slap across the ass. Jaskier cries out but is muffled by the sheets.

“Now, now, darling, none of that, you want to be a good boy, don’t you?” Geralt says, his voice low and rumbling, just inches away from Jaskier’s ear.

He strokes gently down Jaskier’s back, along the dip of his spine.

“Yes,” he whines. “Wanna be _good!”_

“Then stop acting like a little brat. Because you know what happens to brats who misbehave?”

Jaskier whines, shaking his head.

“They get punished.”

He cries out when two of Geralt’s fingers suddenly push inside him. He whines and cries and shivers with the effort it takes him to _not move._

He takes two fingers with ease. His body clings to Geralt’s fingers, almost pulling them deeper in. He’s soft like silk and perfectly wet. Geralt watches his eyes roll back in his head when he first finds his prostate.

“That’s a good boy,” Geralt purrs at him. “Doing so well, not moving at all, just letting me have my fun with you.”

Jaskier looks like he’s drooling.

“Feel so good, darling. Can’t imagine how you’ll feel on my cock,” he continues. “All stuffed full with it. Hugest cock you’ve ever seen, that’s gonna be a tight fit, isn’t it? Bet you’ll feel so full.”

Jaskier lets out a noise that’s almost a sob. Geralt rubs his prostate, massaging over it, not letting up for a moment, torturing the pleasure out of it.

“Wish I has all my ropes and tools and toys with me, darling. I bet your soft, pretty body would look _delicious_ when it’s tied up, when I’ve got you so trapped that you can’t even a move a single muscle. You’ll just lay there, nice and pretty, like a toy for me.”

Now Jaskier actually does sob, even as he quivers with pleasure that’s likely almost becoming _painful._

“You’ve got the pretties voice too, darling. Is that what you are, pretty boy? A sweet little songbird? My little lark?”

“I-I-I’m a pretty songbird!” Jaskier sobs, gasping for air. “I’m a little lark!”

 _“My_ little lark,” Geralt warns. “Remember that detail, darling.”

“I’m your lark! I’m your songbird!”

_“That’s my good boy.”_

Geralt isn’t sure if the next sob is because of the praise or because Geralt gently pulls his fingers out of him. He wipes his hand on the sheets then fully lays on top of Jaskier, trapping his hands between their bodies.

“Oh, my little lark,” he hums in Jaskier’s ear, then spits into his hand.

He uses the spit to wet his cock, then guides it to Jaskier’s hole. Tears are flooding down his face, drool pours out of his mouth, but he still says _please._ The way he _begs_ is the best thing Geralt has ever fucking heard.

His cockhead prods at that pretty pink little rim. He grabs at Jaskier’s hair, pulling his head back, dragging another wet sob out of him. When Geralt finally pushes into him, Jaskier’s eyes go wide, his mouth falls open, soft lips forming an O, but he doesn’t make a noise. He seems to overwhelmed by the sensation of being _filled_ to bother making any sounds. Geralt’s now free hand wraps tightly around Jaskier’s throat as he grunts into the boy’s ear.

 _“Fuck,_ that tight little cunt just lets me right in, doesn’t it?” he grunts at him.

It just seems to _keep going._ He just keeps pushing and pushing, reaching deeper and deeper inside him, so much so that Geralt almost thinks he’s going to disappear fully into that perfect heat. But then he bottoms out, buried to the hilt, as deep as he could possibly be, and it is _perfect._ Silky warmth envelops him, and it grips him _tightly,_ and it doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be able to pull out because this body will just _pull him back in._

“How’s that, pretty boy? Do I fit you _just right?”_

Jaskier sobs again, Adam’s apple rippling against Geralt’s fingers. _“Yes! Yes, so right! Just right! Oh, God!”_

“You want me to fuck you, little lark?”

_“Yes!”_

“Want me to break you open on my cock, darling?”

_“Yes! Fuck! Yes!”_

“Want me to _destroy_ you, pretty boy?”

_“Oh, my God, please, yes!”_

Geralt stands up on his knees, dragging Jaskier with him by the hair and the throat, then wastes no time.

Jaskier _screams_ when Geralt starts thrusting. He scrambles after something to hold onto; he finds the foot-board of the bed, and clings to it. The mattress creeks under them and the frame groans.

Geralt doesn’t hold back. He thrusts with every ounce of his might and every fraction of his speed, doing just what Jaskier wanted him to; absolutely destroying him.

And for Jaskier’s part, he only hangs on for the ride, letting himself to fucked be to pieces, used like a piece of meat, gasping for air and sobbing with _pleasure-pain._

Fuck, Geralt can feel the _tight_ coil of pleasure deep in his gut, drawing his balls up tight, making his legs shake just a little, pulling his breath short. It takes all his mental strength to force the coil to _unwind,_ to loosen up, to _wait._ He wants to blow his load deep inside Jaskier, yes, but _not yet._ Not until he’s got Jaskier completely ripped to pieces.

Speaking of Jaskier; the boy manages to pull one hand free from the foot-board. He tries to reach for his cock, tries to touch himself and find even just the briefest moment of relief, but Geralt sees it coming. He sees it coming from a _mile_ away. He easily slaps Jaskier across the wrist, making him wince, easily letting him figure out that _that is not allowed._ Geralt pulls on his hair; pulls him up to stand fully on his knees, back almost flush to Geralt’s chest, then slaps him across the face.

“You think you’re allowed to do that, little lark? You think you’re allowed to touch that cock?”Geralt questions, managing to only sound _a little_ out of breath even as the sweat is fucking _pouring_ off him. “You think you’re allowed to do _anything_ without asking permission?”

 _“No!_ No, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Geralt! _Please!_ Just wanna cum! Just wanna cum for you!”

_“Hand behind your back, bitch.”_

The insult makes him whine, voice hitching at Geralt’s drastically calmed pace, now only a lazy, languid pace, drawing each and every motion out to last forever. Jaskier quickly clasps his hands behind his back, again trapping them between their bodies. Geralt grabs him by the jaw, smooshing his cheek, forcing him to make a strange little kissy face.

“Are you so hungry for it, little lark? Are you that much of a whore for it, that you’d _disobey_ me?”

“No! Shawwy! I’m shawwy! Peashe!”

“That’s right, you fucking _slut!_ You _listen_ to me! You do what _I_ say and _nothing else!”_

_“Yesh! Do wha’ you shay!”_

“Good boy,” Geralt growls. “Ask for permission!”

_“Pleashe lemme toush my cock! Pleashe lemme toush it! Pleashe let me cum!”_

Geralt releases Jaskier’s face, moving back to grip his throat again instead.

“Please let me cum for you, Geralt! Please let me cum on your cock like a good boy!”

He whines as Geralt rolls his hips extra slowly, grinding into Jaskier’s prostate.

_“What are you?!”_

Jaskier gasps as the hold tightens, cutting off his air-supply ever so slightly. “’M your lil’ lark! Your lil’ lark!”

Geralt attaches his mouth to Jaskier’s back, biting, nipping, licking, sucking. He slackened his hold again; Jaskier inhaled a rough, raspy breath. He _screams_ when Geralt bites down on his shoulder. When Geralt lets up, he can see the outline of his teeth in red on Jaskier’s pale skin, and it is _beautiful._ He wants to leave those _all over_ that sexy body.

“C’mon, darling, show me how good you are at begging,” he tells him.

He pushes Jaskier down again, gets him on his hands and knees. He lets go of his hair and his throat, takes him by the hips instead.

“Come on! Beg for it!”

With that, he picks up the pace again. Shit, he fucks into him just as hard as before and this angle is even fucking _better,_ and it has Jaskier quivering in the blink of an eye and sobbing once more.

 _“Ple-ease!”_ he cries, voice hitching with the wracked sobs. “Please, Geralt! _Been a good boy! Been your lil’ lark! I’m a good boy!_ Please!”

“Voice is so pretty when you’re begging,” Geralt grunts. “Sing for me, lark! Let me hear you sing!”

He very likely hadn’t been holding back his noises before either, but at the order, a whole new wave of them began to spill out. He was louder too, crying out for Geralt to _keep going, give it to him, faster, harder, keep going, don’t stop, please let him cum._

Geralt isn’t planning on it. Not until Geralt gets to cum first.

And shit, he’s almost there. That tight coil is getting _tighter_ again and it’s on the verge of snapping, and he’s about to lose his mind.

It’s only another few moments, another few frantic thrusts, before he is cumming in thick spurts into Jaskier’s body, filling him with it, cock pulsing inside him, the feeling making Jaskier whine again.

Geralt only takes a few moments to catch his breath; to lean over Jaskier, holding still, pressing a kiss to the fresh bite-mark on his shoulder, panting for a few seconds.

But Jaskier’s desperate sobs, the way he wriggles on Geralt’s cock and stutters out scattered pleas, rouses Geralt again.

He pulls out; though Jaskier whines at the loss, Geralt doesn’t think he’ll mind it for long. He helps Jaskier onto his back, lays him out, gets him to spread his long, beautiful legs. Jaskier almost shakes apart when Geralt swallows down his cock. He loses his fingers in Geralt’s long, white hair, tugging loosely. He’s too worn out, too fucked out, to have any power left in him to make it hurt. He barely has it in him to try to guide Geralt’s motions. Geralt sucks down deep a few times, teasing Jaskier’s pretty cockhead into his throat, before pulling off.

He wraps it in his hand instead, jerking him off with slow, steady motions, drawing it out just a little further. He teases his fingers at Jaskier’s hole. Oh, it’s even prettier now, all puffy and sensitive after such a mean fuck. Jaskier quivers again. A drop of cum trickles out of him and Geralt could get it up again at just that perfect sight.

“How does it feel, my pretty lark?” Geralt asks, mouthing against Jaskier’s thigh. “How does it feel to have _me_ dripping out of you? Maybe you rather it stayed inside? Maybe I should’ve brought a plug, so I could stop you up and keep you filled up with _me.”_

Jaskier isn’t even capable of really making sentences any more. He clings to Geralt’s hair, and he sobs, and he cries, but he can’t form words; he nods so desperately, though, as though he hopes that will be enough of a plea.

And Jaskier _has_ been a good boy, so Geralt feels generous.

Geralt plunges two fingers inside him again. He easily finds Jaskier’s prostate, rubbing at it tenderly, _fuck, he’s so slick with Geralt’s cum, he can’t believe how fucking hot that is_ , as he moves his mouth to suck on Jaskier’s tight balls and jerks him faster.

 _“Cum for me, little lark,”_ he says, brushing his lips against Jaskier’s sac. _“You’ve been such a good boy, so go on, take your reward.”_

The words have barely left him before a final, agonized wail breaks out of Jaskier.

He cums in beautiful ropes of white, painting himself with it, making himself even more irresistible.

Geralt removes his fingers slowly, gently. He releases Jaskier’s cock as gently as he can, too. Jaskier doesn’t make a sound. He just closes his eyes and seems to focus mostly on breathing. Geralt reaches off the bed; he finds one of the dirty t-shirts that lay strewn about the floor and hopes Jaskier won’t mind the sacrifice. He wipes Jaskier down as gently and neatly as he can. He tries not to rouse him from him exhausted daze.

Jaskier is thin and light; Geralt can pick him up easily. He doesn’t move him very far, only tucking him in under the covers and curling up next to him, arms wrapping around him.

Jaskier starts snoring.

Geralt scoffs. Even in his sleep, he can’t shut up. It’s…a little adorable.

*

When Jaskier wakes up, a few hours have passed. While he slept, Geralt searched through the apartment and found the kitchen. He’s ready with a bottle of water and a snack when Jaskier can sit up.

“How do you feel?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier nods, chewing loudly. He washes it down with a gulp of water. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

Geralt hums. “Don’t think I hit all your _likes,”_ he says, smiling. “-but I’d say I did a decent job of it.”

That makes Jaskier scoff at him almost _incredulously._ “Did more than a _decent_ job of it, I’d say. You fucked me out of my blood mind!”

Geralt has to laugh slightly too. “So I didn’t _over_ do it? I was…worried, for a sec. After you passed out.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “Oh, God, no, that was _amazing!”_ he says animatedly. “And don’t think I don’t remember that bit about the ropes because yes, please, let’s do that some day, that sounds _fantastic.”_

Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier’s bedhead. “We’ll see, little lark.”


End file.
